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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26110597">No Nonsense, Dear Husband</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeme/pseuds/celeme'>celeme</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Attempt at Humor, Blue-Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Characters Reading Fanfiction, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Isabela (Dragon Age) and Innuendo, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Nevarra (Dragon Age), Prince Sebastian, Secret Crush, Suggestive Themes, Treat, Viscount Hawke - Freeform, travelling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:48:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,042</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26110597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeme/pseuds/celeme</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Divine Victoria declares that love is infinite, driving the nobles vying for Prince Sebastian's hand into a frenzy. A marriage of convenience and political gain with an old friend saves Sebastian from the awkwardness of turning them all down, but he doesn't realise he's about to have a different set of problems in his hands.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Male Hawke/Sebastian Vael</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Black Emporium 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No Nonsense, Dear Husband</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/gifts">gremlinquisitor (suchanadorer)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A big thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/McLavellan/pseuds/McLavellan">McLavellan</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbex/pseuds/barbex">Barbex</a>, and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand/pseuds/hollyand">Hollyand</a> for looking this over!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hawke’s hand parted from Sebastian’s, a smile playing on his face. “Any regrets yet, dear husband?” </p><p>A gleaming band sat on Sebastian’s index finger, the feeling of it strangely comforting. Sebastian had expected a persistent nagging in the back of his head; his conscience warning him of the foolishness of this idea, but… no, it wasn’t there. Surprising, given how quickly this had all come about. </p><p>He shook his head in response, smiling at his old friend, linking their arms as they walked down the aisle. The Chant reverberated from the walls in beautiful, joyful tones, and all the guests stood up to watch the two of them leave. Sebastian made an effort to lock eyes with as many of them as he could, nodding here and there, smiling politely at nobles and clergy alike. There would be a banquet in their honour next; they’d only get a moment of rest before duty called once more. </p><p>It could have been so much worse. In theory, he could’ve married for love had his older brothers survived, but any such hopes had been forgotten once he joined the Chantry. A marital alliance came back to the table once he’d taken the crown of Starkhaven, and the nobility’s push to secure his courtship had become close to intolerable. </p><p>The women presented to him had nothing wrong with them; it was just that Sebastian had his vows and the prospect of caging someone to his side felt unfair. The cat-and-mouse game had only grown more frantic once Divine Victoria had announced all chastity vows null and void — so much so it occasionally hindered his ability to work. He’d found he’d wanted a marriage even less, though he couldn’t say why. Eventually his advisers had taken pity on him and concocted a plan.</p><p>A plan that made sense. </p><p>Even now, seven years after the explosion in Kirkwall, Hawke was his best friend — and the Viscount of the city Sebastian had left behind. This show of unity would help rebuild what the rifts and warring factions had destroyed. This would be the strongest alliance the Free Marches had ever seen. So what if it wasn’t for love? </p><p>Hawke glanced at him, lips curled to a smile underneath his well-groomed beard. His dark blue suit was tailored to perfection and hair meticulously combed back, much like Sebastian’s own. He imagined they made a picture-perfect pair; their respective citizens would have something to inspire their spirits for months to come.</p><p>He returned the smile, feeling genuinely optimistic. Together they would do so much good — for both of their cities.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>Garrett didn’t look up as the door to his office opened. There was too much on his plate to humour Seneschal Bran’s constant need for attention; another attempt had been made at robbing cargo at the harbour and he needed a course of action. Had he summoned Varric yet? He’d been intending to, but Aveline had hogged up all his time during the morning as she’d gone over the evidence of a new gang forming in the—<p>“All work and no play makes Hawke a very dull boy.” </p><p>Garrett tore his eyes from the incomplete writ, his surprise turning into delight upon seeing his visitor. “Isabela. Looks like they’ll let just anyone in these days.”</p><p>“So it seems. I mean, look at you,” she grinned, draping herself on the chair opposite to Garrett’s desk. </p><p>The months at sea had deepened the colour of her skin; there was a golden glow to it as a ray of sunlight painted a stripe across her face. She seemed relaxed and in good humour; Garrett couldn’t help but grin back at her. It had been too long since he last saw her and, frankly, he welcomed the break.</p><p>Garrett called Bran for refreshments and they exchanged their news while drinking tea. Just as Garrett was about to ask Isabela if she knew anything about the new criminal gang, the pirate reached for something from between her breasts and dropped it onto his desk. </p><p>A newspaper unfolded before him, a suggestive painting taking up much of the cover. “Is this the kind of play you had in mind for me? <i>The Randy Dowager</i>?” he tsk’d, “I expected better from you.”</p><p>“Flick to page six.” She watched him expectantly, a devious glint in her eyes. When Garrett took his time inspecting the cover, she grabbed it from his hands and began to read out loud: “<i>The Viscount And The Prince: A Night To Remember,</i></p><p><i>Viscount Raven was a well-formed man. Arms like tree trunks, six feet tall, and a look that sometimes killed and sometimes made you swoon; and so it was no wonder even Prince Augustus kneeled before his throbbing</i>—”</p><p>“All right, that’s enough of that,” Garrett cleared his throat, thumbing the corner of his unfinished writ. There was really so much to do, and this break had gone on for long enough.</p><p>“Don’t be a spoilsport. I was just getting to the good parts,” Isabela wailed, all mock-hurt complete with a pout. “Besides, I know you’ll love it.” </p><p>“Is this the kind of nonsense they write these days?” The collar of Garrett’s shirt was tight; he loosened it with a finger, pretending to read one of the many reports on his table. “I remember when they still had class.” </p><p>“They never had class!” Isabela’s laughter echoed from the walls, loud and incredulous. “What would be the fun in that? But yes, this is the second story featuring Viscount Raven and Prince Augustus. They’re becoming quite popular.”</p><p>She got up from the chair and left the paper on Garrett’s desk, rolling her shoulders as though they ached. “Now, believe it or not, I have business to attend to. I’ll drop by the mansion this evening, unless you’re busy.” A grin spread over her face and she pointed at the paper, “Anyway, take some time for play.”</p><p>As soon as the door closed behind his friend, Garrett grabbed the magazine and found page six.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>From beneath a pile of assorted mail, an envelope with the genuine seal of Viscount Hawke jumped into Sebastian’s sight. He’d seen so many false ones lately, most of them forged by the admirers of Viscount Raven and Prince August who wished to… express themselves through letters.<p>Sebastian cringed at the thought and hurried to open the envelope, quite ready to think of something else.</p><p>
  <i>Dear Husband,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I am writing to you to request a formal visit. The Chantry has been securely re-established at last, and I feel a visit from you, dear Husband, would inspire the clergy — and myself. Consider your no doubt beautiful speech as an opportunity to guide the Chantry to take an interest in the plight of the poor. I feel they’re more likely to listen to you than myself, seeing as you once wore their robes — and quite strikingly so, if I may add. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Should you accept, I will make it my mission to show you how the city has improved since you last set foot in here. I also have a surprise gift you may want to claim.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Yours faithfully,<br/>
Garrett</i>
</p><p>A not entirely mirthful chuckle bubbled up from Sebastian; Hawke’s brand of humour had certainly escalated as of late. </p><p>Or had it? </p><p>Perhaps he was reading too much into it. </p><p>Without a conscious thought, Sebastian’s hand hovered over a handle to one of his desk drawers. Perhaps the fault was in those… stories. As he’d been bound by his vows, he hadn’t spared much thought to Hawke’s physical appearance aside from acknowledging he was handsome, but now… </p><p>He opened the drawer containing certain volumes of <i>The Randy Dowager</i>, outrage and fascination battling in his mind as an idealised version of Hawke looked back at him from the cover of the latest edition. It was hard to adapt to this new world where certain desires were suddenly allowed — harder still when such stories planted thoughts into his head. Hawke had always been flirtatious with him, but it felt different now. </p><p>Technically, Sebastian could respond with more than a laugh, but where would that lead?</p><p>It wasn’t a risk worth taking; their friendship was too dear to him. He pushed the drawer closed again, determined not to be distracted by such thoughts. </p><p>This marriage was an arrangement between friends, granting them both a veneer to hide behind while building up their cities and dedicating themselves to the citizens that depended on them. Besides, he hadn’t seen Hawke since the wedding; perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, exaggerating the man’s good qualities. </p><p>He wrote a brief letter of acceptance and left the arrangements in Seneschal Granger's hands. It was time to put an end to these foolish imaginings.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>Garrett beamed as Sebastian stepped down from the altar, enthusiastic applause following Sebastian’s speech. He linked their arms together and the two of them steered towards the Revered Mothers and the new Grand Cleric. He was happy to let Sebastian do the talking; the man was in his natural habitat. Mere moments later, the clergy expressed their deepest desire to help those who were most unfortunate, swearing to pool resources into Darktown and the Alienage alike.<p>Garrett couldn’t have been prouder.</p><p>Later, in the mansion, Garrett poured them each a finger of whisky. Sebastian still didn’t drink much. It was unclear whether his vows were yet in effect on that front, and far be it from Garrett to push it — regarding any of Sebastian’s business, frankly, but especially when it came to the vows… thing. </p><p>He threw back his drink in one go and immediately poured himself another one, asking for Sebastian’s latest news now that they were finally alone. Not at all to distract himself. </p><p>The conversation started easily from there and Garrett relaxed against his arm chair, letting the warmth of the hearth ply him with its sweetness. It sounded like Sebastian was just as busy as he was; the harvest had produced very little and Sebastian was in negotiations with Nevarra to buy off their surplus grain. The King had proven worthy of his reputation; his demands changed from day to day, leaving Sebastian and his advisers at a loss. </p><p>“Perhaps I could lend my aid? King Pentaghast is an avid reader of Varric’s, and his letters have been a touch—” Garrett clicked his tongue, recalling the mortifying recount of his heroics, “—enthusiastic.”</p><p>Something flashed in Sebastian’s eyes, but it was gone before Garrett could read it. The man brought his glass to his lips, downing the remainder of his whisky in one go. “I’m to meet him in Nevarra City next month,” Sebastian placed the glass on the table between them carefully, avoiding Garrett’s gaze, “If it’s at all possible, you could accompany me.” </p><p>How many days was that by a carriage? Three? Four? This was probably a terrible idea, but, “I would love to.” </p><p>This was what they were married for, after all. Sebastian had done him a favour today, and now it was Garrett’s turn to step up. He would tolerate no nonsense from himself during the trip and focus on getting Starkhaven that grain, whatever it took. He could do that, right?</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>Sebastian woke up sweaty and tired. Sleep hadn’t come easy last night, despite having two cups of the milky, honeyed tea that had never before failed to make his eyelids droop. Instead, he’d rolled and fidgeted until his sheet had bunched into a lump under his back, leaving behind a sore muscle and a sour mood.<p>Hawke was due to arrive today and something told Sebastian the man would take one look at him and know exactly what had been on his mind. No doubt Isabela was playing the same game with Hawke, too. She’d sent Sebastian the newest edition of <i>The Randy Dowager</i> alongside a letter in which she marvelled at how inspiring and lifelike the latest story was — while implying she wanted him to take down notes and learn. </p><p>Sebastian sighed, summoning his servants for a bath. While they prepared it, he visited the small chantry in the Fort and immersed into his morning prayers. As always, prayer helped quieten his mind; a sense of calm blanketed him as he returned to his quarters, lasting all the way to his bath. </p><p>He descended into the warm water, trying to relax the tightened muscles in his back. Why was he letting himself get distracted in this manner? And why did nothing he tried help? He’d imagined visiting Hawke would have stripped him of the illusions he’d somehow come to entertain, but the fact of the matter was… it had done nothing of the sort. Instead of being smart about whatever this was, he’d gone and invited Hawke to accompany him abroad. A letter from Hawke to the King would have sufficed, but Sebastian had stupidly — selfishly! — wanted more time by the man’s side, hoping that perhaps… what? </p><p>The worst thing was, his invitation must’ve shown Hawke a glimpse of his motivations, for the man’s letters had lost their flirtatious tone. Sebastian hadn't known he’d miss being called ‘dear husband’, or mourn the loss of vague innuendos concealed in the man’s sentences.</p><p>This was all because of those silly stories. As unrealistic as they were, Sebastian’s past life made it all too easy to imagine every sensation, hear every sigh and whimper vividly in his ears. He’d never let himself imagine Hawke that way before, not before he’d fallen victim to his own curiosity and read the texts. Now it was too late to put the cat back in the bag. It seemed a hopeless task to hide the effect Hawke had on him. He didn’t even have his vows to fall back on; the absolute, unquestionable ‘no’ of that particular boundary. He’d never known how he’d relied on that certainty, not before he was left without it. What remained was his good sense, and that was in short supply these days.</p><p>And now he’d stirred under the water; a response he’d grown resigned to over the past few months. He washed himself quickly and dealt with the problem last, leaving the water a pallid, wispy shade of gray. Hopefully his… body would stay dormant while he paraded Hawke around the city, arm-in-arm.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>The carriage ride had turned quiet shortly after they departed from Starkhaven. Garrett pretended to inspect his dossier on King Pentaghast, but the words danced in his eyes, forcing him to start reading the same sentence anew, over and over. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sebastian looking out through the window into the passing forest, fingertips tapping restlessly on his knee. This visit had started so well; Sebastian had taken him to the Alienage where they’d watered the holy tree. An annual ritual for the Prince of Starkhaven to show respect to his elven citizens, clearly one beloved by the people, had the size of the gathered crowd been any indication. Then they’d moved to the docks where the two of them had given their ceremonial blessing to a new merchant ship; the largest the city had ever seen.<p>The… issue had made itself known after the dinner banquet, once they’d retired to Sebastian’s living quarters. The atmosphere had changed once they were alone, taking on an unknown quality. Sebastian had had a strange look on his face all evening, his conversation awkward and laughter forced. Garrett had made his excuses early, leaving for his adjoined room to let Sebastian get some rest. He’d clearly needed it. </p><p>And yet, it had been hard not to take it personally. Garrett had stared at the closed door separating them for what felt like hours, wondering if there was something he’d said or done to cause this agitation in his hus— <i>friend</i>. </p><p>No nonsense on this trip, he reminded himself. </p><p>A yawn broke free and he folded the dossier on his lap, catching Sebastian’s attention. The man gave him a smile — slightly apologetic, just a little quirk of lips — before yawning himself. He rubbed the back of his neck and some of his tension seemed to ease, then turned to Garrett, concern in his eyes. “You should get some sleep. We have a long way to go, yet.” </p><p>Garrett leaned back onto the luxuriously cushioned seat and relaxed, relieved. He couldn’t quite close his eyes all the way, though: Sebastian’s fingers resumed their hopping at the edge of his vision and Garrett focused on them. Sebastian had such nice hands. Thick and long fingers, soft-looking skin now that he no longer carried his bow everywhere. Just another beautiful part of a very handsome package. </p><p>If Garrett took a moment to admire the man while he was supposed to be sleeping, would that count as nonsense? No, probably not. He’d always admired Sebastian, for both his personality and his outer allure. The husband thing was new and, sadly, the joke had turned into something more dangerous in his mind. That was the nonsense part he’d sworn to avoid, for Sebastian’s sake. </p><p>After a while, Sebastian leaned back in his seat, letting out an exasperated sigh. The restless fingers drew into a fist, bunching the fabric of his trousers. Garrett’s half-closed gaze swept to the man’s mid parts, now that they were revealed to him, and… oh.</p><p>
  <i>Oh.</i>
</p><p>He scrunched his eyes shut, struggling to keep his breath even. The carriage rocked underneath them, and Garrett tried to focus on the sound of sand and pebbles hitting its base while blood rushed in his ears, the beat of his heart thumping urgently above it all. </p><p>Surely he’d imagined that. Surely.</p><p>Just to check, he opened his eye for a sliver, seeking Sebastian’s lap with his gaze. </p><p>No, that was definitely not his imagination. </p><p>He couldn’t look away from the obvious bulge Sebastian tried to hide by crossing his legs. It seemed… rather relentless. Thoroughly uninvited, a memorised passage from <i>The Randy Dowager</i> played in Garrett’s mind: <i>Prince Augustus had no qualms about lowering his trousers right there and then, inside the cabin of the carriage, his erect member begging for Viscount Raven’s hands, mouth, anything. The Viscount, ever eager to please, bent over and captured—</i> </p><p>The carriage jolted and a hitching breath escaped Garrett. He took the opportunity to turn away from Sebastian; the situation in his own slacks had grown suddenly dire. This was going to be a long journey, and his definition of nonsense would need to be greatly expanded upon.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>King Pentaghast was a generous host; he’d kept the festivities of the evening light and informal to accommodate his travel-weary guests. After a hefty dinner and a stroll through his dragon memorabilia gallery, he’d advised Sebastian and Hawke to retire for the night. So far, his famous madness had stayed hidden behind a veneer of good humour. His admiration for Hawke, however, was as plain as day and had left Sebastian feeling strangely uncomfortable.<p>The mood had evaporated, however, when a servant had guided them to their room. A singular room. Because of course it was. It’s not like Sebastian hadn’t expected this; his union with Hawke was promoted as a love match. The story of two friends who had thrown themselves into their duties, patiently waiting for the right time to marry. </p><p>Seneschal Bran’s stroke of genius, that narrative. False, but credible. </p><p><i>Too credible to be false</i>, said an inner voice Sebastian tried not to hear, as he stood and stared at the four-poster bed. A singular bed. Because of course it was. </p><p>The servant cleared her throat, waking Sebastian from his reverie. “M’lords, is this room sufficient?”</p><p>“Yes, yes, quite,” Sebastian forced out, digging his pocket for a coin. With a beaming smile and a curtsy, the servant left, a sovereign richer. </p><p>Why... why did he do that? He could’ve come up with an excuse and requested separate rooms and avoided this… mortifying turn of events. He swallowed hard and turned slowly towards Hawke. “I— I’m sorry, this is…”</p><p>Hawke looked frightened for a moment, but then he let out a breath and lowered his shoulders with visible effort. “No, it’s all right. I don’t mind sleeping with you.”</p><p>Sebastian’s stomach jumped to his throat. Hawke went as white as a sheet, then an apple red a beat later. The man coughed and sputtered, and Sebastian could find no words of comfort or a joke to offer. The beat of his heart was so loud, so overpowering, that he nearly didn't catch it when Hawke spoke at last: “I didn't mean it like— well, you know what I mean.”</p><p>Sebastian gathered himself and nodded, not trusting his voice. Hawke let out a strained laugh, which he joined, but it did nothing to dispel the tension between them. An awkward silence descended between them; Sebastian’s smile felt fake on his lips. </p><p>“Well. I suppose it’s time for some rest.” In desperate need for an out, Sebastian disappeared behind a changing screen and stripped the outer layers of his clothing. A jumbled mess of emotions rolled in his chest, none of which he wanted to examine.</p><p>It took some time and carefully picked thoughts to push them aside, but at length he exited and made it to the bed, trying not to walk so fast as to appear disturbed. Hawke had taken a seat by the fire; he didn’t spare Sebastian a glance, too busy inspecting the wine he’d poured for himself. </p><p>The silence felt… pointed. The air was thick enough to cut. Sebastian settled carefully underneath the duvet, trying to take as little space as possible. It took a long time before the mattress dug under Hawke’s weight. He tried to swallow down his irrational disappointment as the man’s warmth eluded him, and no hand reached for him.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>The morning light brought out the reddish undertone in Sebastian’s hair. Garrett had seen it before, so many times, but the most notable occasion before this one had been a sunny day at the Wounded Coast, many years ago. Sebastian had stood on top of a stone, looking over the sea, shielding his eyes with a hand. <i>I've never seen the ocean</i>, he’d said, and Garrett had fumbled with his words, saying nothing coherent in response. Stupid. Sebastian had looked so dashing standing there, a smile parting his lips, rays of light reflecting off his armour, a red halo framing his head; like an icon in the Chantry. Only much more alluring.<p>Garrett didn’t avert his eyes this time. His hus— <i>friend</i> was sound asleep, jaw lax, little dribbles of drool falling to the pillow between beats. Was it strange he found that endearing? A part of him wanted to wake the man, to point out the wet stain he’d caused and have a laugh at Sebastian’s expense, but. But after all the weirdness, he didn’t dare. </p><p>Things between them had turned slightly awkward, and Garrett had made it so much worse last night with a few careless words. If only he could take them back. And the flirty letters, too, come to think of it. He’d thought he was hilarious, up until the point where Isabela had sat him down and explained she was the one writing stories about him and Sebastian, supposedly for their own good. To make Garrett realise what she already knew. </p><p>He’d begged her to stop, and she had relented. There would be no more adventures of Viscount Raven and Prince Augustus. And yet it was a slim comfort; would the mark they’d left on Viscount Hawke and Prince Sebastian ever come off?</p><p>He’d quit teasing Sebastian once Isabela had forced the truth on him; he was in love. He was making his friend uncomfortable with jokes that weren’t quite jokes, with eyes that lingered on the man for too long. He’d agreed to this marriage not only because of the political benefits; he’d wanted to help Sebastian, and… yes, he’d wanted an excuse to see him more often. </p><p>When had things between them changed? Had it been the wedding day? Perhaps he’d been obvious; Mother had always said his quips did little to hide his heart. Maybe it was the gift he’d given him back in Kirkwall; a book of recipes from Lothering he’d commissioned especially for Sebastian. The book itself was fine, but the suggestive inscription had probably been too much. Or maybe he’d made a fool of himself before they’d departed for Nevarra. He had accidentally called Sebastian ‘dear husband’ during the morning while they'd been alone. </p><p>Or was it… was it because of the stories? Did Sebastian get fan mail, too? Bran made sure to weed out any such letters, but perhaps Sebastian’s staff lacked the expertise. Did he have Isabela whispering in his ear, too? She wouldn’t dare — would she? </p><p>He shuddered at the thought. Tracing back their interactions one by one, Garrett's stomach turned tight. There had been a strange gleam in Sebastian’s eyes in Kirkwall; a bashfulness in how he’d suggested this trip. His letters had become a touch formal. Then there was the… incident in the carriage. Garrett had chalked it up to an unwanted reaction to whatever was on Sebastian’s mind. He was a man, too. It happened. </p><p>But what if Sebastian had been thinking of him?</p><p>Nonsense. </p><p>He bit the inside of his cheek, considering. </p><p>Surely that wasn’t possible. </p><p>No, it was much more likely the man felt an aversion towards him now, thanks to Isabela’s handiwork. The carriage incident must’ve been what he’d originally thought; the rest could be explained by discomfort. He hadn't seen Sebastian truly relaxed since the wedding. Not like he was now, asleep next to him.</p><p>His gaze lingered on the face of his hus— <i>friend</i>, taking inventory of the golden brown skin and sharp cheekbones. As he focused on Sebastian’s lips, they closed and curled into a smile. Startled, Garrett gasped; the man had awakened. Blue eyes stared at him, still a little hazy from sleep. Soft. Fond. “Good morning, love.” </p><p>Garrett, struck stupid, only managed a huff of a laugh. An awkward, hollow, horrible sound that seemed to rouse Sebastian from what remained of his sweet dream. The man apologised quickly, rose even quicker, and spent what felt like an eternity behind the changing screen. </p><p>Garrett could have kicked himself. He deserved a good, forceful blow to the cheek. Once again his nonsense had taken hold; he’d probably made things worse, getting caught like that. He’d help negotiate this deal for Starkhaven, for Sebastian, and then he’d let the man be free of the walking disaster that was Garrett Hawke and his adventurous eyes. It was better that way.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>The luxurious breakfast they shared with King Pentaghast did little to improve Sebastian’s spirits. The negotiations followed right after, and while he was happy with the end result, pinpricks of guilt bullied his heart. He smiled as they all watched the parade the King threw in their honour, but it was a practiced expression devoid of any real joy.<p>He’d had such a wonderful dream this morning; its gentle tendrils had reached through to the realm of the living, and for a moment Sebastian hadn’t known the difference. He’d thought he’d seen something in Garrett’s eyes — a feeling he reciprocated — but then he’d opened his mouth and made a fool of himself. </p><p>And now Garrett played the part of a dutiful husband so well. Too well. It was an unnatural act; the affection a fabrication they’d never before needed to construct. Garrett trembled as they linked their arms, the smile on his lips was as fake as Sebastian’s. </p><p>How could it be he’d managed to ruin everything? Even after all the trouble he’d gone through to hide his emotions?</p><p>The day wore on. Sebastian had no wish for the hours to rush; the evening held a promise of mortification he had little desire to face. Hawke had charmed King Pentaghast to the point where Sebastian needed only to look attentive while the two discussed the art of dragonslaying over dinner. Which he didn't mind in the least. All the more time to consider what to say, for... he had to come clean. Had to. Only the truth had any chance at making things right.</p><p>Once in their room, they exchanged a few meaningless words before Hawke retired to an armchair, watching the fireplace with a far-away look in his eyes. A glass of wine dangled in his hand, already forgotten. Sebastian took a deep breath, collecting what wits remained in his head, and took a seat next to his friend. He worried the wedding band in his finger, trying to ready himself for its absence. </p><p>“Sebastian, I—”</p><p>“Look, Garrett—”</p><p>Hawke’s smile reflected the strain of Sebastian’s own. The man made a gesture with his hand, urging him to go first. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” was all he got out at first. Hawke’s brows rose, but the man stayed silent. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I’ve,” he rubbed the back of his neck; there was no easy way to say this. “I’ve…”</p><p>The sentence hung in the air while he struggled to find the words to finish it with. </p><p>“It’s all right,” Hawke mumbled, pouring him a glass of wine, his mouth drawn to a straight line. He handed the drink over, “Just tell me. I can take it, I promise.”</p><p>Sebastian played with his glass for a moment, watching the flames through the red liquid. Then he downed it all in one go, forcing the words through a dried throat, “I’m in love with you.” He couldn’t look Hawke in the eyes, not if he wanted all of this out. “I’m so sorry. Like I said, I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t know… I didn’t know before those blasted magazines made me think.” He grimaced at the empty glass. “But perhaps it’s been going on for longer than that. I… I just don’t know. And now we’re married and I’ve chained you into this mess—”</p><p>“Wait.” Hawke’s hand landed on his shoulder, trembling. “Wait a moment. You’re in love with me? But how is that possible?” </p><p>With the weariest of sighs, Sebastian turned to face his friend at last. Hawke’s eyes had gone wide, though no disdain was visible. Yet. It would come, he was sure.</p><p>It was Sebastian’s turn to be surprised when Hawke’s hand moved from his shoulder to brush against his cheek, ever so lightly. “How can you be in love with me if I’m in love with you?”</p><p>Silence descended between them as Sebastian turned the words around his head. They sounded out of order. Nonsensical. “Wh— what?”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>“What?” was all Garrett could choke out. The skin on Sebastian’s cheek was warm and soft; the man leaned against his fingers just the tiniest bit, but the look in his eyes was so confused.<p>Oh. Garrett was supposed to say something. Looking back, he’d hardly made any sense. He withdrew his hand, taking in a breath to try again. “I’m in love with you, too,” he let out a huff, “and I never get this lucky. I— I guess I thought you wouldn’t put up with my nonsense, but if you,” he paused to scratch his head, “if you’re in love with me, too, I suppose you have some tolerance for it.” </p><p>Sebastian’s lips curled upwards. There it was: that sweet, sweet smile Garrett had spent years trying to inspire. With stupid jokes, mock-flirting, helpful deeds and… well, with a love confession, it seemed. Sebastian reached for Garrett’s hand, linking their fingers together, testing the feel as if to see if they fit. Clearly satisfied, he said, “It’s no nonsense, dear husband.” He kissed the back of Garrett’s hand. “So, am I to understand you don’t want a divorce?” </p><p>Garrett had entertained such thoughts mere moments ago, but not for his own sake. He’d figured this evening would end in tragedy, in a rift so deep there would be no crossing it, but here they were: holding hands by the hearth, looking for all the world like an old married couple — should anyone see them. </p><p>He squeezed Sebastian’s hand in his own, the ghost of Sebastian’s lips still lingering on his skin. “That’s the furthest thing from my mind, dear husband.”</p><p>Hours sped by as they talked, drawing ever closer in their seats. Too many things had gone unsaid; pushed into the shadows, they’d taken the shape of something ugly and unwanted. But out here in the light they looked natural. Welcome. How had Garrett forgotten the ease of this; the smooth rapport, the way Sebastian matched him word for word? Gone were the brooding clouds that had hung over Garrett’s mind. </p><p>“Now that the cat is out of the bag, I suppose I should admit Viscount Raven was a pretty good depiction of me,” he lifted his chin, looking down at his husband with a smirk. “No need to take my word for it, though. I’d be happy to prove it.”</p><p>Sebastian snorted, getting up from his chair. “You say that like I’m some blushing maiden, expecting me to be scandalised by such ideas,” he knelt before Garrett’s feet, “but the fact of the matter is, I’ve much to teach you.”</p><p>Garrett’s breath wheezed as Sebastian’s hand ran up his thigh. “O-oh, that was—” </p><p>“A joke?” Sebastian looked up at him, giving Isabela’s wicked grin a run for its money. “I thought I’d collect on all the jokes you’ve said over the years, if it’s all the same to you.”</p><p>How could he have refused? </p><p>It turned out Garrett had much to learn, indeed; it was over embarrassingly fast. Later, when they finally retired for the night, the bed — yesterday so daunting — felt too big for the two of them.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>Isabela was late. So late, in fact, that Sebastian wondered if she’d show up at all. She had one business dealing or another which brought her to Starkhaven; it was all very hush-hush, and Sebastian knew better than to ask.<p>Just as he was about to voice his frustration — he had business to attend to; Seneschal Granger wanted his signature for letters written on his behalf — Garrett’s calf rubbed his underneath the table. A brow rose suggestively. </p><p>The servants had gone to fetch lunch. Guards stood outside the room. </p><p>They were alone. </p><p>Why not give into temptation, just a little bit? Garrett would be gone soon, signing letters written by his own Seneschal. </p><p>And so, Sebastian leaned over the corner of the table to take Garrett’s face in his hands and kiss him. The man’s lips opened for his own; his beard tickled his chin, a palm on his back pulled him closer, and just as Sebastian was about to slip in a bit of tongue, a slow clap interrupted such endeavours. </p><p>Sebastian sat back and cleared his throat. </p><p>At the end of the long table stood Isabela, still clapping. “Well done!” she clicked her tongue, “I didn’t think you had it in you.” </p><p>“Isabela,” Garrett adjusted his seat, turning to face their friend, “Looks like they’ll let just anyone in these days.”</p><p>“So it seems. I mean, look at you.” </p><p>Prior frustration turned to embarrassment, Sebastian greeted Isabela with a smile, rising to pull her a chair opposite Garrett. She put down a heavy-looking bag on the table, a safe distance from the empty plates, and took a seat, letting out a happy sigh. “You’re looking at a published author.”</p><p>Brows shooting up, Sebastian looked to Garrett, who seemed as nervous as Sebastian felt. </p><p>“Congratulations!” Sebastian finally managed, busying himself by pouring Isabela some wine. “I trust you’re not planning to resurrect Viscount Raven and Prince Augustus?” </p><p>“Oh, relax. You two have grown so domesticated you're hardly inspiring,” she chuckled, taking a small sip from her glass, “though I might've been too quick to judge, considering the scene I walked into.” </p><p>“No, trust me, we're as boring as they come,” Garrett grinned, his hand coming to rest on Sebastian’s knee under the table, slowly inching upwards. “Just an old married couple who never do anything interesting. Isn't that right, dear husband?” </p><p>“Quite,” Sebastian lied, smiling innocently at their friend. Some of the nonsense they got up to was best kept between the two of them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments and kudos always much appreciated! Thank you for reading. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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